


perfect places of Sleep

by PetrichorIllusions



Category: Nevermoor Series - Jessica Townsend
Genre: Accidental Naps, And i will give it to him, Caretaking, Friendship, Gen, Jupiter North deserves a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27136453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorIllusions/pseuds/PetrichorIllusions
Summary: “The thing they don’t tell you about being an adventurer, when you’re young and dreaming about being an adventurer, is that each adventure brings with it a bloody big pile of paperwork”Or, Jupiter North deserves a break, and if no one else is going to give him one then I sure will.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	perfect places of Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Title from E.E. Cummings’ poem “You are tired”. I hope you enjoy!

The thing they don’t tell you about being an adventurer, when you’re young and dreaming about being an adventurer, is that each adventure brings with it a bloody big pile of paperwork. There’s reports to write, expenses to file; not to mention the several letters from your hotel’s accountant all marked Urgent. 

They probably aren’t _actually_ urgent, Jupiter thinks. If they were, they’d have talked to Kedgeree, or else Fen would have cornered him before he even made it up the first flight of stairs. She would have had time, too - he’d spent five whole minutes stood stock still on the third floor landing, knowing he needed to be in his office, but desperately wanting to collapse into his bed. Sometimes, when he’s been away long enough, the Deucalion turns his bed into a boat, and gradually reduces the swell of the waves each night until he’s used to sleeping on dry land again. He could definitely use that, this time—

Except not right now. Right now, he’s got a report to write, and ‘Urgent’ letters to read, and it won’t be long before Jack and Mog get home - not that he won’t be glad to see them; he’s always glad of that. But adopting two teenagers hadn’t exactly been in the game plan, wasn’t something he’d factored in to his life of adventuring. There’s more resting on his shoulders now than there ever was before - the left side of his body can attest to that, a bone-deep ache from an unexpected (though very stylish) fall he’d taken to keep himself out of the bad guys' sight. Ten years ago, he might not have bothered. Nowadays, coming home isn’t just a mark of success, it’s an imperative. But being safe just takes so much more _brainpower._ Ugh. 

There’s a soft knock at the door, but when he drags himself up there’s no one there but a tray on the floor. He winces as he bends to pick it up, then rolls his eyes at himself. At most it’s a bruise, he’ll be fine. Along with the teapot and mug on the tray, there’s a flask, a note tied around the top. He’s so busy trying to read it that he forgets to lock the door after himself. The rest of the tray wobbles dangerously, and he gives up trying to read until he’s safely back in his chair. 

“For when you forget about the first mug,” it says, in Martha’s careful handwriting. Jupiter has good choice in staff members, he thinks. He pours himself a cup of tea, and it gets him through the final few paragraphs of his report. The expenses will have to wait, he decides after a quick glance at the clock, but he makes himself a list of what he’ll need to start it off. If his eyes keep drifting closed of their own accord, well, expenses are boring, everyone knows that. 

The fire is burning well next to him too, which feels good after the remarkable chill of his recent escapades, but doesn’t exactly help with the sleepiness. Walking to the window seems like just so much effort though… he shakes himself instead, pushing his hair back from his face. Maybe the ‘Urgent’ letters will be more interesting. 

The first ‘Urgent’ letter is from his accountant, querying their Chief Party Planner’s costing for 225 ice sculptures. 

Jupiter lets his head fall to his desk. Maybe this isn’t the thing to be doing right now. Maybe he can— maybe—

His eyes are already closing. He falls asleep there and then, head propped on his arms, mug of tea forgotten beside him. 

***

When he comes to, a number of things have changed. 

  1. His desk has turned from hardwood to a mattress, soft underneath his forearms. The cushion of the chair has grown too, spilling out over his shoulders as a makeshift blanket. 
  2. The light in the room has completely changed. It had been early afternoon; now the shadows are long, ululating with the ebb and flow of the fire. 
  3. He’s no longer the only one in the room. 



He jolts to attention, his abandoned mug of tea jingling precariously with the speed he sits up, but—

“It’s only me, Jove.” Chanda’s voice is a relief. He slumps back in his seat, scrubbing a hand over his face. With almost anyone else, he’d already be talking, inventing some bald-faced lie about a new form of his Knack, or some other quick-witted nonsense that people expect and believe of him. For better or worse, Chanda knows him better than that. 

“Sorry,” He says, but he doesn’t need much light to see her shaking her head at him. 

“Jack and Morrigan don’t know you’re back,” she tells him instead of dignifying his apology with a response. “You can sneak out later and make a grand entrance, they’ll be delighted.”

That makes him smile. “Thank you,” He says, sincere. As his eyes adjust to the light, he gets a better idea of what she’s been doing. She’s swiped the tray from his desk, sitting in the largest of the leather armchairs with a pen and a large pile of papers. All the ‘Urgent’ letters on his desk have also disappeared. 

“You’re not technically on my staff, you know. You don’t have to look after my hotel for me.”

“And you don’t need to run yourself to the brink of exhaustion every week, and yet here we are.”

Jupiter rarely loses staredowns, but he can only hold her gaze for a few moments before looking away. He can’t deny she has a point, not with the matt shimmer of worry that radiates from her in waves. He does so hate to be the one causing that worry. 

“What else can I do?” He asks, not meeting her eyes, and his voice is hoarse in a way that can’t be explained away by the accidental nap. She says nothing, because she knows the answer just as well as he does. Even doing all that they are, it might not be enough. The mood in the room rests in the darkness, the air filled with unspoken fears. 

But Morrigan and Jack are home, and he’s been away a long time. It’s time for celebrating, not wallowing. He forcibly pushes the bad thoughts away, furnishing himself with a smile. The desk, he notices, is slowly turning back to the colour of wood. 

“Martha mentioned she sent you up some tea,” Chanda says, noting the shift as well. Jupiter remembers the flask, and grins. Chanda’s eyes look much more approving of that. 

The tea has cooled enough that he can gulp it down, and between the tea, the nap, and the friends, he feels rejuvenated. 

“Thank you, Chanda.” He tells her, gesturing to the papers, but meaning all of it - looking after his hotel, looking after his kids, looking after _him._

“You’re welcome,” she tells him, and he knows she understands he means for all of it. She writes a last few words, then stands. “Come on,” she says, offering him a hand. “Let’s sneak you out the staff exit so the Intrepid Explorer can make a dashing entrance.”

He surprises her with a hug, and she’s pleased even if she does take a few moments to return the embrace. They aren’t normally huggy people - can't be, with the Nevermoor press always on the lookout for a rumour. They both make for good headlines individually; if anyone thought both of them were _involved,_ they’d be hounded for weeks. But Jupiter appreciates his friends, and appreciates how much they put up with on his behalf, and he loves them for it. 

Chanda draws back, but cups his face with a soft hand. It’s such a familial gesture that he leans into it without hesitation.

“I just hope,” she says, voice as gentle as her touch, “that you take care of yourself even when the rest of us aren’t around.” He closes his eyes instead of answering, because he knows, has always known, that he should be doing a better job. She doesn’t press it though, squeezing his shoulder before letting him go. 

“I’ll cause a diversion for you,” she says, as if creating diversions doesn’t bring her great joy. 

He grins.

“And I’ll steal your limelight right back.” She raises her eyebrows, a challenge accepted, and precedes him out the door. 

It’s good to be home. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be part of a 5+1 of people making Jupiter take a break, but it got long enough to share on its own. It’s possible there might be more snapshots coming! I love these books so much, I hope you enjoyed this!


End file.
